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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26626516">it'll work itself out fine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKYouth/pseuds/MKYouth'>MKYouth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(on Earth), Aliens, Epic Friendship, Eret and Fundy and Tubbo are family!, Family Dynamics, First Contact, Fluff and Humor, Inspired by E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (1982), Inspired by Lilo &amp; Stitch, Minor Injuries, Overthrowing the local Government, SBI are family!, Space Flight, Stranded, TEENAGERS FUCKING AROUND!, Teenagers, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, alien!Tubbo, and SBI of course., don't worry about it!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:01:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26626516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKYouth/pseuds/MKYouth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re willing to take me in?”</p><p>“Er— Yeah.” </p><p>There’s a short silence. The alien’s expression moved to confusion, then their eyes widen and Tommy recognizes a somewhat grateful feeling on their face. </p><p>“I’ll go with you, I need a lot right now.”</p><p>-</p><p>Or... Tubbo crash lands on Earth, his communications are fried, and a curious teen explores the forest at night.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), Phil Watson &amp; TommyInnit, Technoblade &amp; Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Floris | Fundy, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot &amp; Niki | Nihachu, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>430</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it'll work itself out fine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>What's up its MK here. I finally finished this thing here- It ended up being a lot longer than I expected it to be lol. My other works are gonna be put on pause or worked on when I feel like cause I have all attention to this bad boy ATM [sorry ASKS- you haven't been touched in months]. Shoutout to lazy_kitkat for pushing me to post this like... 8 mins ago- enjoy !!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> An increasingly loud alarm sounds in the small planet cruiser, waves of red light pulsing over his panicked self and the continuous switch from a bathed red vision to none at all pushing his heart over the edge. Thoughts swirl around his head faster than he can process, hands hovering over the control panel of his gifted vehicle—everything he’d sworn to memorize suddenly coming together and confusing him on what to do.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He looks up to the glass pane that separates him and the dark void, something he’d seen only from afar, once a small blue dot in the sky becoming more and more complex by the second. Greens show, pieces of land that he could imagine pulling together into one like a puzzle—different colors of a wide sea pulling through from the once solid view. He freezes. A sudden warmth coming over his body, unnatural heat filling his space, a sign of control being taken from his hands.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s all green now, green and yellow, shades of all sorts coming through—though the dark he sees dots of light on grey landscapes. Close, so very close, he can’t pull himself out of this one now.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A thought pulls through from the panic, an idea that he knows his brother would never recommend. In the moment, he’d felt all hope to be lost, but the idea holds options— of ways to get back.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A shaky arm slams down on a black button- window to the world quickly covered by solid metal. The heat seems to intensify as he pulls his helmet visor down, hands held tightly to the front of his buckle. He knows he may not survive such a sudden impact, but he believes in the old ship's ability to make it through the unplanned trip— to save him, to sacrifice herself.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The world around him seems to shake, minutes turning to seconds—red, white, black flashing behind eyes—  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The world stills, and suddenly… </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Walls shake, items left on the top of his nightstand tremble across the top for a short moment. The lights flicker on and off, and a boom echoes in his ear. He rises from his sleep in a quick, panicked motion. </p><p><br/>“What the fuck<em>—</em>” Tommy breathes under breath, quickly turning to look out his bedroom window, downpour of heavy rain calming his confusion, yet the sudden brush of energy stays. A hand rises to comb through his hair as he looks over to his left, another pressing the home button of his phone. Screen illuminating the dark room and telling him it’s late, 1AM, too early for him to wake. </p><p> </p><p>He won’t be going back to sleep now. Tommy’s sure he could stay up a little longer, he couldn’t imagine anyone caring now, the weekend having already arrived. He drags his gaze back to the window, looking over the little horizon he could see, a rising cloud of smoke drawing his attention. </p><p> </p><p>He leans to the glass, squinting his eyes. There’s smoke in the rain, odd, no one should be camping this late… and would a fire be able to survive in the rain? No, he learned about that in school, if it was an oil fire, yea, but those weren’t allowed out here. He’d know, Phil had drilled it into the minds of Wilbur, Techno, and him ever since they were able to even go outside. Family camping was important— he’d say, surviving in the wild was a good skill to have, he’d say. It bore Wilbur half to death but Tommy was excited about it when he was younger. It hadn't come handy in a while but this was going to change that. </p><p> </p><p>Probably. </p><p> </p><p>It was dark, rainy, and there was a fire of some sorts in the forest. There had to be unconscious skills that would rise when he sees the problem, and if not… well at least he’d gotten outside for the day. </p><p> </p><p>He slips out of bed, pocketing his phone into his hoodie. Taking soft steps, careful not to wake any of his family up with his late night venture, the click of his bedroom door closing causes him to wince, he turns to the hallway, walking down the dark corridor, passing the rooms of his brothers, decorated doors closed shut- privacy and all. He makes it to the living area, over to the door- and then he’s outside.</p><p> </p><p>Rain’s still coming down, hard. He pulls his hoodie over his head, and takes a sprint into the night woods. </p><p> </p><p>It’s dark, but a signaling smoke covers the moon, the cloud rising high and higher every step forward he takes. His phone lights up the forest only so much, flashlight almost allowing a meter of clear view before the forest in darkness blends together in a mush of leaves and trees. He moves forward, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge and snaps of branches under foot causing him to jump, before realizing it’s his own movement that had caused the noise earlier.</p><p> </p><p>The ground is damp, and he almost slips. This was fine, he was fine. All he needed to do was push forward, find where the smoke was coming from, and go back home—carefully—maybe even return with a picture or two, depending on what it was he was exactly looking for. Yeah, a short trip. Nothing spooky or creepy or generally weird happening here.<br/><br/></p><p>He looks up at the moon, a raindrop falling on his cheek as he takes a deep breath. The rising smoke seemed so far away. Standing still for a moment, letting the sound of rain calm his nerves. He’s been in this forest thousands of times before, nothing bad ever came of it besides a few bug bites in the past, fond memories of campfires and soaked tents reminding him of the forest's usual atmosphere. No odd rising smoke, or heavy rain that wasn’t drowning it out.</p><p> </p><p>He was going to find this out.</p><p> </p><p>Looking down, he steps to the darkness, his phone held tightly in his hand; flashlight on and facing forward. This was going to be a fun adventure, something for him to remember with a smile, to tell others when they ask where he’d been. </p><p> </p><p>A determined smirk finds its way onto his face, and he follows the trail of smoke in the sky.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s tight against his chest. Fingers sore, wet—a cut on the palm of his hand. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s hot. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Too, hot. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There’s smoke, lots of smoke. He can’t properly breathe— he's shaking, coughing, and he feels a strike of pain when he moves in his seat. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Quick— Think quick— </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hands dash to the buckle that held him against the chair, pushing hard on the large, red button that usually required little to release. He pulls the latch that would open the top of the ship, tugging and tugging until he realizes it wont open anymore.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He panics a hand pushing against the roof— quickly coming back when the sting of a burn sends a shock through his arm. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He leans his back against the seat of his chair; kicking the top of the ship over and over— it opens and smoke spills out from the inside, cold, night air hitting him like a wave. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He takes a deep breath of the air, climbing out of the inside, laying his back on the front of his ship, buried deep into the planet's ground.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s wet… steamy, he can feel the ground heating up under him— but the cold downpour in the clearing makes it stay a steady warmth. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He relaxes… distracted temporarily from the searing pain on his back, ignoring his future plans for a moment of peace after the chaos… he feels himself drifting to sleep, eyelids turning heavy.. heavy…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He hears the snap of a twig. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’s alert. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tommy can’t see. </p><p> </p><p>He can see, his eyes are working just fine and he’s able to know when he's about to bump into a tree or trip on a rock. He just can't… see. </p><p> </p><p>There's an odd fog of sorts that’s built up in this area of the woods that smells an awful lot like burning wood and hot grass, it’s limited his vision even more than before. Shapes of distant figures that turn to a tree when approached, his throat slightly burning with each deep breath. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, not knowing exactly what’s happening five feet ahead of you— but the thicker the smoke becomes the closer he knows he’s getting. </p><p> </p><p>The moon stopped showing a while ago, turning to a spot of light shining through layers of clouded sky. His phone’s flashlight only did so much against the heavy fog, brightening up the color and illuminating the area around him rather than doing what it was supposed to. It was weird, but he’d noted it for future use— if he ever needed to escape a serial killer and so happened to have a fog machine on him, he’d assumed it to be useful. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy continues forward despite these setbacks, the suffocating smell of smoke only growing as the fog gets thicker and thicker. He truly doesn’t know what he’s going to find, something irregular, he knows, but whatever it could be just doesn't come to his mind. </p><p> </p><p>He enters a clearing. He thinks. The looming shadows of distant trees far from him, just him and a massive amount of fog. </p><p> </p><p>He takes a cautious step forward, the snap of a twig underfoot startling him for a brief moment. There was barely any noise in the woods this early. He can only see white clouds in front of him, but as he moves forward an odd shape takes form in a shadow. </p><p> </p><p>It’s round, big— with three things sticking out of it. He gets closer, only getting more confused when it clearly comes to vision. </p><p> </p><p>It’s grey, black accents covering the front of what… he guesses to be engines? They’re round things poking out from the side, sleek with a shine, but also very dirty. He assumed from the small crater made around it— the front of the thing is buried half underground. It’s… opened. The inside like the front seat of a car, buttons… a steering wheel— and a leathered…? Seat. The side was spilling smoke like there was a small fire inside. Based on the position of it, he’d guess something like that was going on...</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know what the hell it was, but whatever it was, it was <em> not </em> from around here. </p><p> </p><p>It was somewhat like a car, but nothing alike all the same— too small to be a plane, it looked like something out of a video game. </p><p> </p><p>He placed the sole of his shoe on the side, grabbing the edge of the opening and pulling himself in— wincing at the heat of the metal. He falls in the… cockpit, looking over the various buttons and switches. There was a small screen behind the wheel, reading “↸ᔑᒲᔑ⊣ᒷ↸ - ᒷ∷∷𝙹∷”<br/><br/></p><p>He couldn’t read it. Typed out in an unfamiliar language that looked all too familiar to something he’d see in a digital world. </p><p> </p><p>This was weird, and way too much like something he’d play on his pc. </p><p> </p><p>He moves his gaze to the seating area, a chair that seemed to be attached to the floor left with an unbuckled seat belt. Behind it a small room, a bag tucked away in the corner. He squats down, grabbing the bag by its handle and looking inside, it was warm, like everything in this area; the gadgets it held inside familiar to things he’d seen before, but… off. A phone with too many buttons, a book written in odd tongue, food that didn’t look lovingly made at all.</p><p> </p><p>Foreign, all so foreign, it was so <em> alien </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Wait.</p><p> </p><p>He drops the bag, quickly standing up and bumping his head on the flat part of the open roof. It was clicking, the odd way this thing was built— the strange language and seemingly sudden impact the ship had on the Earth. He hurriedly fishes his phone from his pocket, opening the camera app with shaky hands— hitting record and holding the phone out in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Look at this shit— It’s— It’s <em> alien </em> !” He spins around in the cockpit of the ship, “Oh I fucking wonder if that off planet bastard is still around here—” He grabs the side of the ship and pulls himself over, landing on the weirdly warm dirt with a thud. He turns the camera to the ship, showing off the entire thing with <em> oo </em> s and <em> aa </em>s.</p><p> </p><p>“A propeller or something— I, oh I can’t fucking believe this shit it’s a fucking alien ship in <em> my fucking woods </em>!” He waves some smoke away from the front of the camera, walking around to the back of the ship to see what else was on it. The back was basic and arounded like the rest. Those jutted out engines with holes in the back that he assumed to be used for movement. His mood took a 360— suddenly amazed by his own discovery. </p><p> </p><p>Hell— who would he even tell of this? A small town with a barely standing police force, 911 would be called and no one would be able to take the credit from him. His discovery, his fame. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> If anyone believes him, that is. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The human is loud, and from the edge of the clearing he can tell that. Obviously an adventuring type, he could tell by the placement of the moon it wasn’t a particularly normal time for intelligent life to be walking around in the woods. His brother told him that people from Earth were strict with schedules, but he guessed that was based on adults.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The human looks young, his age, maybe. It’s hard for him to tell through the thick smoke his ship had given. The human sounds young. Laughs like a kid, pitched in the area no adult ever talks.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He needs to get his bag, but the humans in the way. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Money or something right? He’d get money? Fame? That’s how this works. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> People haven't made contact here, they’ve yet to be met with the people of power.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tommy ends the video, slipping his phone back in his pocket. Standing back and looking at the ship.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It wasn't his place to make first contact, he doesn’t know how to work that responsibility.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tommy isn’t thinking straight, he’s tired— inhaled way too much smoke for a person to inhale in such a short amount of time, and overall; was a mess, an excited mess. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He can’t make it on the ship with him looking like that, but maybe he can slip past him… from behind. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s hot, like, headache inducing hot. Even then, there’s a push of cold night air coming down from the sky, it’s damp. There’s steam rising in the clearing, Tommy drifts in thought…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Closer. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Man. There is no rain in this clearing.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Closer… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Like, none, it's pouring hard out here but there's just no rain. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Almost behind… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Is it because of the heat? That makes sense but at the same time its kinda o—</p><p> </p><p>Tommy hears the crunch of a leaf behind him, and swiftly turns on his heel—</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell?!—” Tommy takes a step back, hands up in a defensive stance against the shorter being, “W— What are you doing here?”<br/><br/></p><p>
  <em> Helmet. Oh. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The humanoid freezes, not knowing exactly what to do in this situation. On one hand, the human here has no idea he’s talking to an extraterrestrial being— on the other hand, the extraterrestrial being <em> does </em> and needs to get their stuff so they can try and leave this unfamiliar planet. </p><p> </p><p>Well shit, guess it’s first contact after all. </p><p> </p><p>They sprint past Tommy. Climbing up the side of the ship as quick as he can and scrambling to get their bag— throwing the strap over their shoulder and jumping out, dashing into the opposite end of the forest faster than it takes Tommy to process. </p><p> </p><p>It clicks in his head— and he swiftly turns to the ship, going in a sprint after what he assumed to be a random kid. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!” He yells. The stranger's shadow only slightly visible in the fog— the world around him seemed to blur as he chased the stranger, trees becoming one. Every step becomes repetitive until he’s unsure if they’d been running in circles or not. </p><p> </p><p>“Get back here— that’s important!” Tommy pleads as the stranger turns around a tree— Tommy sliding the corner and barely not falling to the floor in a muddied mess. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy slows down, not prepared for a chase tonight at all. He quickly fishes his phone from his pocket and checks the battery: Running beneath twenty percent, he curses under his breath. Taking a light jog after the stranger, making sure to follow the distant crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot. How hard could it be for a random kid to run out of energy? Especially this late at night, they must’ve snuck or or something, intrigued by the same cause. </p><p> </p><p>At least he assumed. They were dressed oldy, a biker's helmet on their head, a cropped white jacket over a slightly off white tee, black pants and greyed shoes with small streaks of a darker color decorating them. A coordinated outfit, did Mommy dress them up before sending them off? They practically glowed in the moonlight, like those yellow bandanas parents force their kids to tie on during halloween so they aren't run over by a car. It was… odd.</p><p> </p><p>They’d slow down soon.</p><p> </p><p>He hoped. It wouldn’t take that long, right?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was wrong. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He ran, and ran, and ran- until his legs got sore from overuse and the repressed pain from their harsh land crashes over them like a wave. The burn in their back returning— the tinge that climbed up their throat from the heavy smoke flaring up like a grill doused in oil. The cold and crisp night air followed by the steady coming drops of chilled rain shocked them with every breath and hit against freed skin. You’d guess someone from the vast and lonely void of cold and infinite space would be used to the chills of a cold night.</p><p> </p><p>Well, that’s different for someone who was nearly grilled alive, be considerate.</p><p> </p><p>His body temperature was higher than it's ever been, and that's saying something considering they’d flown only a few miles from a dying star. It was headache inducing. The combination of hot steam, burning smoke, and cold rain confused his body on what to think— normally they regulated to temperatures inside his home ship, but so far from it he had to endure the struggle of adjustment. </p><p> </p><p>They desperately leaned against a random tree. Not caring if the human found them. They needed to rest for a moment, get this stupid helmet off their head so they could properly breath and see what the hell was up with their back.</p><p> </p><p>The human, of course, catches up to them. Granted, the sudden pause in steps confusing him for a short moment until he wandered around the area and saw the strangely luminescent outfit from the corner of his eye. Tommy walks to them with determined and slightly pissed steps— motivation against the stranger taking a sharp turn once they see the state they’re in.<br/><br/></p><p>“Are you well?” He asked rather bluntly. Seeing the stranger's side pressed up against the tree, barely staying on their feet.<br/><br/></p><p>A muffled voice answers back, cracking on the vowels— “<em> Helmet </em> .”<br/><br/></p><p>“What?”<br/><br/></p><p>“<b><em>Helmet</em></b><b>.</b>” A limp arm raises to his head and bumps the side of the head protector. Tommy somewhat understands— they want it off? That's what they’re asking? Can they not do it himself or—</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Off, breathing— hard. </em>” The stranger speaks in broken english, but the message is conveyed— Tommy awkwardly steps closer to the other. Grabbing their head and pulling up. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know exactly what he expected from the stranger. Maybe a sour expression and some green eyes, yellow hair like his— not…</p><p> </p><p>Not a literal fucking alien thats for sure. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy drops the helmet, taking stuttered steps away from <em> it </em> , his hands held up in two instinctive fists. Large, honeycombed brown eyes stared back at his own wide eyes, black antenna squished against a fluff of partless brown hair- two dark streaks of the same color down both of the <em> things </em> cheeks. It wore a tired expression, and Tommy can’t help but feel some sympathy for it— but all the same, he’s terrified. Somewhat, and really fucking speechless. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> That’s great </em> —” It coughs. Closing its beady eyes and sliding down the side of the tree. One of its hands is wrapped tight around its wrist, fingers curled into a fist— he notices a mess of color slipping between its fingers. An inhumane red— too bright for a <em> normal </em>cut. Man, Tommy feels bad now.</p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t what he’d thought human vs. aliens to be at all. He’d expected terrible creatures that wanted nothing to colonize Earth, fangs, claws and heads too big for their tall, muscled bodies. The thing in front of him looked pathetic and much too <em> human </em>. Like a kid lost in Walmart without his mom. Bruised up from the unsavory landing, it was… sad. Anticlimactic as fuck, really.</p><p> </p><p>It’s breathing hard, chest rising faster than Tommy thought humanly possible— well, it’s not human. It’s crash seemed to have caused it enough pain, a cut hand, sat in smoke for who knows how long. It was uncomfortable to watch. Tommy not knowing if he should help it, run away, or try and catch it… What are people supposed to do in this situation, every movie ever says shoot the aliens but they aren't normally so… peaceful.<br/><br/></p><p>Well there are movies like <em> E.T. </em>isn't there. </p><p> </p><p>He squats down in front of the alien. Holding a hand out to the creature, it cracks open its hexagon patterned eyes, large, black pupils looking him up and down. It hesitantly gives him it’s cut hand, a diagonal dash cut down through its palm. </p><p> </p><p>“How’d you get this?” He asks, trying not to move it’s hand too much.</p><p> </p><p>It looks at him with knotted brows, a rather confused look on its face. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”<br/><br/></p><p>It doesn’t speak english.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a beat of awkward silence.</p><p> </p><p>Then, It’s eyes bright up— Moving it’s shoulder until the backpack falls off, free hand rummaging around until one of those small devices is found. A compact phone thing, looking like one of those old wall phones from the 90’s but… shaper. It had a different quality to it, like it wasn’t used for calls. </p><p> </p><p>The alien puts its free hand on top of it, gesturing for Tommy to do the same action. He does, confused until he feels a small pinch and then an uncomfortable pull downward— he wants to pull back. He wants to make sure he’s not being fertilized for some weird alien colonization experiment but he doesn’t, the creature in front of him not having shown any malice to him this night.</p><p> </p><p>Which for all he knew could be an act. It stole it’s own stuff, giving him quite the adrenaline rush, but he sees now why.</p><p> </p><p>The pull stops and he takes his hand away, putting the stranger's hand down on the floor while he rubbed at his own. The alien puts its own free hand on top and presses a button, Tommy assuming it's going through the same thing.</p><p> </p><p>A different kind of silence falls over the two. The alien puts the device away, cradling their bleeding hand again.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh… Hi.”<br/><br/></p><p>“So now you speak— right after taking my DNA or something? What game are you playing?” Tommy interrogates, the alien’s brows furrowing more with every word.<br/><br/></p><p>“What— No— Your language isn't universal you know—” It stutters, scooting farther away from Tommy, “I was gathering data so I could speak your language— there’s a whole universe out there we all don’t use the same common tongue, we have to— like… make stuff for that!”</p><p> </p><p>Reasonable, but… “Then how did you know what to say so I could get your helmet off? Eh? Explain that.”<br/><br/></p><p>Tommy’s words come faster than the alien can really process, learning a language in seconds didn’t really give the best comprehension. It slowly clicks in it’s mind…</p><p> </p><p>“People have we’ve been to Earth <em> before </em> of course— you can’t expect a fully developed planet to not have the Galactic investigate it before— that’s— that’s crazy!” It stuttered— they?— stuttered. </p><p> </p><p>Oh, they really weren’t supposed to be saying that. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy lets out a frustrated sigh, it had clicked before. Multiple times his mind put together the pieces and told him that this was a real, life, alien encounter. There was a breathing bug eyed monster from the sky sitting right in front of him, Tommy went in their ship for god sake! Yet as he sits here, after a very accusatory conversation having taken place it clicks hard. It clicks for the 3rd time tonight. He was meeting an alien, and— apparently this wasn’t the first time the alien… or, <em> an alien </em>had been to his planet. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re telling me there’s more of you here?” He asks, his gaze burning a hole into the alien's head. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know,” They're not lying, adjusting their lean against the tree they continue, “I’m not part of the policing force— I’m a working class citizen! I’m not supposed to be here!”<br/><br/></p><p>Tommy’s brows furrow even more, “What?”</p><p> </p><p>The alien uncomfortably shifts, “Look— you’re like— a human or something, I’m just a ʖᒷᒷ⊣⚍||!! An asteroid hit my ship and sent me flying down here, I didn’t want to land but I didn’t have a choice! Stop asking me so many mean questions, my hand is bleeding— I think my wings are wrinkled— and my throat really fucking <em> burns! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy grimaces. Yeah, he was being a bit of a dick. </p><p> </p><p>It was dark, something established already. Tommy’s only real source of light at the moment being the alien’s slightly luminescent clothes, he couldn't exactly tell from first glance what was up with them other than the strangely light blood he’d spotted earlier. He looks closely, now. There were dark spots of soot on their cheeks, light but enough to contrast on their skin if he focused hard enough. The antennae were squished, something he noticed before. It couldn’t have been comfortable, now thinking on how those look on a bug. </p><p> </p><p>He tilted his head, focusing on the alien’s lean. There was a slight, somewhat see through plastic looking thing poking out from the alien’s back. Wings, they said they had them. Wrinkled— Tommy thinks back to all the times Phil talked about bugs flying by. Wings on every bug were delicate. People weren't supposed to touch them, a single rip was detrimental to the creatures health. </p><p> </p><p>Wrinkled wings on a larger creature couldn’t have been good either, and judging by the way the alien had fallen against the tree— it had to have been painful as hell. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, <em> fuck </em>.” He breathed, hurriedly grabbing his phone from his pocket and checking the time. A dimmed light told him it was nearing the end of 3AM, time had flown by fast. </p><p> </p><p>He looks between his phone and the alien, god— he couldn’t just leave him here…</p><p> </p><p>Well, yolo or whatever.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you need a place to stay— I mean, you have every right not to trust me but I can’t imagine that ship to be an easy repair— and you look like you need some medical attention, we have— I have bandages and stuff at my house and I could try and fix you up— You don’t have to stay I just don’t want to leave you like this you don’t look very swell—” Tommy blurts, hands moving with every word. The alien looks at him with a slightly confused expression.</p><p> </p><p>They speak, “You’re willing to take me in?”</p><p> </p><p>“Er— Yeah.”<br/><br/></p><p>There’s a short silence. The alien’s expression moved to confusion, then their eyes widen and Tommy recognizes a somewhat grateful feeling on their face. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll go with you, I need <em> a lot </em> right now.” They go to stand, bag already over their shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy takes a deep breath, looking through the smoky fog for any sense of direction. He spots a yellow marked tree, something his father set up in their owned parts of the woods a long time ago. </p><p> </p><p>He stands up, phone held tight in his hand. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll help you,” He says, “Yeah— I’ll help you.”<br/><br/></p><p>The aliens stood next to him, it’s kind of weird. He takes a step forward and the creature-person-thing follows like a shadow, if he was a friend he’d call it clingy— a sibling annoying. But they’re not, they’re an alien from space who crashed in his front yard. Weird, yeah, weird…</p><p> </p><p>He follows the marked trees, alien close behind. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They’re getting closer to home. He can tell by a green marked tree, the color of his household— or the color of Phil’s choice really. It was always green for as long as Tommy knew. </p><p> </p><p>Family colors. Tradition, or something. Tommy’d chosen red all those years ago, young— his reason wasn’t based on importance or anything… he just liked the color. Techno had the same type of route, sort of. Pink was a pretty color, he’d said. His favorite color seen by the bleached brown roots that turned the whitened shade of red every 2 months, he’d attached some symbolism to it but Tommy could hardly remember that now. </p><p> </p><p>Back to the green, a slashed mark of green is passed by the two of them. Walking with tensed silence, the alien not speaking a word unless provoked to do so. Tommy understands that, but he’s not a person who can <em> do </em> that. He needs conversation when he's with another person— if the alien counted as one anyway. They looked like one, acted like one. Tommy guesses he should probably stop thinking about it like a creature. </p><p> </p><p>He never even asked its name— if aliens have those?</p><p> </p><p>“What’s your name anyway?” Tommy asks, he really should have asked sooner. They didn’t really have a proper introduction— Tommy should have been a bit kinder to them earlier. </p><p> </p><p>The creature sighs, looking anywhere but at Tommy. Awkward. </p><p> </p><p>“My names, uh, Tubbo.” They say, nervously playing with a knot of their messy brown hair. Antenna previously squished against the top of their head lifted to a more comfortable position.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy stifles a laugh at the name— it’s probably insensitive but he can’t help himself, “<em> Tubbo? </em> Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like it either! Sounds like an insult... but I’ve lived with it my whole life.” Their words come with an odd weight to them, like Tommy’s missing a piece of the metaphorical puzzle. He probably was, being from Earth and all, not, space. </p><p> </p><p>“How’s it an insult?” He questions, ducking under a low branch of a tree.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo tiredly sighs, “It’s hard to explain, but around 13B890 there was an influx of <em> english </em> words getting flooded in the galactic after a report from some Earth visitors came back— a bunch of mom’s decided to start naming their kids after some of them. I guess I should be grateful I’m not named Spoon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tubbo isn’t a word, what does that have to do with your name?” Tommy asks, genuinely curious about the world he’s never got to experience. </p><p> </p><p>“Well— soon people started changing words to be cuter or something, my mom changed Tubby to Tubbo.” He sounds so done, like the story was something he wished never happened— Tommy couldn’t blame him, but he also found it really funny. Tubby? Really? Did the report not come with definitions? Surely a mother would know. </p><p> </p><p>He speaks, “That’s terrible— but really? People did that for real?”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy’s tone is lighthearted, for Tubbo it doesn’t really click, “Yeah. What, did you guys never have something like that happen? You have more than one language here right?”<br/><br/></p><p>“I guess we do but… it's more lettering, like Ashley spelled with g’s h’s and i’s— i’ve never heard of someone named <em> gato </em>or anything similar to the word.” </p><p> </p><p>Tubbo unconsciously ignores him, “What’s your name? I told you mine.”</p><p> </p><p>“My name's Tommy, pretty cool name.”</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo hums in acknowledgement, walking alongside the other at this point. The trees are getting a bit more sparse, finally far enough that there wasn’t a gross smoke shield blinding the two from seeing five steps ahead. Distantly the dark figure of Tommy’s familiar home through a few trees shows itself.<br/><br/></p><p>“We’ve arrived at my pog house. I'm gonna need you to be quiet cause’ my brothers are <em> probably </em> sleeping and also you're very easy to identify as a not human person— and I personally don’t think Wilbur would react well to an alien in our home at 4AM.” Tommy rants as the two start to enter the clearing known as <em> the front yard.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Lights are shut off, just as he’d left it. The atmosphere is still, quiet, and peaceful— he doesn’t remember feeling that when he left the home.</p><p> </p><p>Don’t make any noise. A challenge he’d faced many times before… alone. </p><p> </p><p>“You have siblings?” </p><p> </p><p>Tommy lowers his voice, “Yeah, two of them. Wilbur and Techno. They’re older than me but they’re still fucking nerds— Wilbur’s a dickhead though so I don’t expect him to take kindly to you in our home.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have siblings. I miss them, it’s only been a few hours too…” Tubbo sighs, ignoring Tommy’s own comments as he follows the boy onto his porch. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy fumbles with the key in his hand before properly putting it into the lock, turning slowly before hearing a soft click. He cracks open the door with a gentle push and shushes Tubbo, taking careful steps into his own home so as to not disturb anyone sleeping.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo follows, white boots making a slight squeaking noise against the hardwood floor. The luminescent outfit doesn’t have the same effect in the dark of the home. The lack of light to reflect off of the offplanet material causing it to appear normal, like something Tommy would see on the street. He closes the door behind the two. Locking it and turning to face the inside of his home. Tubbo stares at the dark with their wide, honeycombed eyes, gaze flicking all over the room. </p><p> </p><p>Furniture litters the room floor, cluttered— a nice kind of cluttered. Despite never being in this home before, they feel comfortable, safe even. They know they really shouldn’t be thinking that. They’re not from Earth. They made illegal first contact— for selfish reasons too. Pulling their gaze away from the home they look down to their hand, the cut having stopped bleeding ages ago. Yellowed, dried blood covering their hand. It’s a gross sight, to <em> him </em> at least. Tommy had taken a look at it earlier and been… confused, to say the least on why their blood dried <em> yellow </em> instead of brown.<br/><br/></p><p>Tubbo looks up to the soft sound of footsteps in front of them, Tommy giving them a small wave forward.</p><p> </p><p>Halls are heavily decorated, photos of strangers— young, old and obviously taken through the years are hung up on the crowded walls. Framed pieces of paper with language Tubbo couldn’t read and images of places he’s never seen before joined alongside the family photos. It was a sight to see, walking past the walls. A never ending tunnel of memories and accomplishments all documented for this family to look back on. </p><p> </p><p>It reminded them of the crowded control room their ship pilot practically lived in. The ship's control panel cluttered with digitized photos of Tubbo, his brother- and all sorts of playing videos that showcased the scenic videos of planets they’d all visited before. The walls made them think of the oldy rustic living area their family ship had, how makeshift everything was compared to the modern flier they’d crashed on this planet's surface. </p><p> </p><p>Bumping into the other they’re pulled from their thoughts, Tommy flashing them a raised brow before messing with the handle of another door. Slowly opening the door of a smaller, white room with a cluttered sink and plenty towels hung around. Tommy rushes the other in before closing the door behind the both of them and flicking on a blinding light.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo squints, “What are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>The doing in question is Tommy rummaging through the sink cabinet, opening drawers and pushing past forgotten bottles of lotion and shaving cream </p><p> </p><p>“I’m looking for some disinfectant to clean your hand— sit down.”</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo looks around the enclosed space, choosing to sit on the ceramic seat known as a toilet. They wouldn’t know that. </p><p> </p><p>A silence falls between the two as Tommy searches for disinfectant and Tubbo patiently waits— opening their bag and looking through their stuff for something to contact their family in space with. Cut hand gently holding the bag open while the other pushes past the few other devices in the bag before grabbing a flat, grey screen and slightly transparent square item.<br/><br/></p><p>They place it in their lap, unharmed hand tapping the electronic awake, scrolling past walls of text Tommy wouldn’t be able to understand. Stopping, they tap on a word and press a button. The device lights up for a moment before red text reading ‘ᓵ𝙹リリᒷᓵℸ ̣ ╎𝙹リ リ𝙹ℸ ̣  ⎓𝙹⚍リ↸’, they mumble a colorful word under breath before hurriedly repeating the motion. The message popping up and up again. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy rises in front of the cabinet, leaning against the sink and holding out a hand for the others. He gives a curious glance to the tablet, looking away upon hearing a frustrated sigh. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s that say?” He asks, wet cotton pad in hand.</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo gives him their hand, double clicking one last time before deciding to answer. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have a connection here…”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy presses the cotton pad against Tubbo’s palm, Tubbo letting out a slight wince from the sting. </p><p> </p><p>They close out of the application they had open, the slightly transparent device reflecting back their worried expression. Tommy slightly stiffens, continuing to wipe down the others bloodied hand as they try to fix their own problem with settings buttons. Tubbo exits out of various things, opening and closing and turning the device on and off before huffing and sliding it back into their bag, brows crunched with worry as they look down to their lap. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy throws the cotton pad into the nearby bin, dropping the others hand down to the counter and awkwardly shifting in place. </p><p> </p><p>“What does that me—” </p><p> </p><p>He's cut off by a knock on the bathroom door.  </p><p> </p><p>He turns, back pressed against the sink’s counter and eyes quickly switching from looking between Tubbo and the door. </p><p> </p><p>Shit, he should’ve kept noise low when he was searching around. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” He asks no one, raising a finger to his mouth while he looks to Tubbo. The bug boy wide eyed at the door, hand clutched tight around their bag. </p><p> </p><p>He can hear a shift behind the door, they both can hear a shift behind the door. The antenna rested at the top of Tubbo’s hair suddenly raised to a point, twitching with every slight sound made. There’s a sigh and Tommy can feel the tension in the bathroom rise, he’d never expected this place to be a showdown. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> What’re you doing? </em> ” He instantly recognizes the voice, Techno. Awoken from a recent sleep, his words slurred with tire, “ <em> You’re being loud’. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy stutters- “Uh— I’m— I’m pissing.”<br/><br/></p><p>He can feel the judging raise of his brother's brow through the door, “Stop being loud— I can hear you rummaging from my room.”</p><p> </p><p>“Go back to bed Technoblade!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going too,” The voice sounds more distant, a yawn is still managed to be heard through the door, “I have to record tomorrow anyway.”<br/><br/></p><p>“Okay!” He says, rolling his eyes as he turns back to Tubbo.<br/><br/></p><p>The alien seems frozen in fear, “<em> That was close. </em> ”<br/><br/></p><p>He holds his words in a whisper, Tommy matching his level, “<em> No shit. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Oh this isn't good— I have no connection to my family in space, I’m stuck here in your home and I probably won't be found for months— knowing this planet if I’m found out I’ll be sent to a lab or something…” </em>Tubbo worries, each word getting faster and faster until he’s in a rant. </p><p> </p><p>Tommy couldn’t blame him really, the worry was justified. </p><p> </p><p>“Is there a way to make a connection?” </p><p> </p><p>There’s a beat of silence. </p><p> </p><p>“Make…?” Tubbo says, quickly tearing open his bag and grabbing the same small device once again. He rushes open the apps, pressing all sorts of buttons Tommy really doesn't understand before pausing on a text of unfamiliar words and taking a moment to read it over. </p><p> </p><p>“Make—” He repeats, zooming to a piece of the screen and highlighting it— “Yes! Yes I can make a connection, it’ll take a while but it will definitely help me get back to my ship—”<br/><br/>He pauses in his excitement. </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm… I’ll probably have to tear apart my cruiser though… I won’t have a place to stay…”</p><p> </p><p>Tommy looks at Tubbo, then to the bag— and finally the door. Was he really ignoring all the stuff already done? Had Tommy not made it clear enough? He’d sworn he’d already said it too, he’s aware of the efforts and difficulties but he’s not one to step down from a challenge or adventure. This wasn’t one he was willing to lose. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll house you, stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo gasps, “Really?”<br/><br/></p><p>“I’ve already invited you over, already lied to a brother, already wasted supplies on you— of course I will man. We stick out for eachother out here.” He shrugs, there was some sort of connection there. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Tommy. It’s— VERY— appreciated.” Tubbo slips the tablet into his bag once again, sliding the straps over his shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>He stands, “Oh— I just hope my brothers are doing alright in space me. They’re probably worried sick…”<br/><br/></p><p>“If they’re anything like mine they’re probably already searching for you, I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” Tommy turns to pull open the bathroom door, shutting the light off and slipping into the hallway, “Besides, if you both make efforts you’ll probably get out here quicker than ever.”</p><p> </p><p>Tubbo nods, “Right. They’re looking for me, as I’d look for them.”</p><p> </p><p>They slip into Tommy’s room, the door softly closing shut behind them and the night wrapping up in a pretty bow. Tommy started something tonight, something memorable and risky. Tubbo made a mistake tonight, but all he’d done so far is gain experience, that counts for something… right?<br/><br/></p><p>Tommy hides Tubbo in his closet for the rest of the night, Tommy crashing onto his bed and immediately falling to sleep— through the window, the rising sun breaks through the horizon. </p><p> </p><p>He hears Wilbur’s alarm go off in the next room over. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“I haven’t heard from Tubbo in a while,” Eret states, a popfloat popping up from the heater they’d installed into their kitchen only a month before this moment, “Think he’s lost?”</p><p><br/>Fundy spins around his pilot's chair, scrolling aimlessly through the GalaxyTap, “Nah, he’d message us.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right,” He says, taking a bite of the jelly filled thing and heading to sit at the table, “He’d send something over— he’s not dumb.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’s not dumb. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You are. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You wanna comment. You wanna comment so bad. </p><p>No idea how long this is going to be [though I can assure you no other chapters will be as long as 1 lmao] but I do have the plot planned. . . expect stuff based on those tags :]</p><p>Thanks for reading! MK out~</p></blockquote></div></div>
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